How My Breakfast Burrito Reminded Me That Closure Can Be So Gratifying

I know what you’re thinking–WTF Bruna? Is it really that bad that now you have to resort to writing about breakfast burritos? First of all, rude. Breakfast burritos are heaven on Earth, and I am honored to be writing about them. Second of all, just let me explain…

This all started as a semi-joke today, but later, I became seriously inspired.

I had to drive back to my hometown this morning to see my doctor for some blood work, therefore, I had to fast (read: Bruna was on the verge of some serious hangryness). So, while waiting to actually see the doctor, I was already daydreaming about what I was going to inhale later that afternoon. And then the moment hit me like a deliciously toasted piece of garlic cheese bread after suffering through a low-carb diet–I’m getting myself a breakfast burrito.

But not just any breakfast burrito. I was going to go to Goldstein’s, which was the spot we’d all go to in high school. This idea literally got me so hyped because I hadn’t gone to this place in nearly 10 years. Did I just age myself? Oh well.

As I drove into the drive-thru, the nostalgia was too real and I was feeling all the warm and fuzzy feelings. I ordered my breakfast burrito, went over to the window to pay, and instantly reminisced about the multiple times my girls and I would be in that same spot waiting for our food while blasting Justin Timberlake’s “Cry Me a River” or the times my ex and I would be patiently waiting in the parking lot for the guy to come hand us our orders before just sitting there and basking in all of its yummy glory.

Unfortunately, I was already running late to work because of said blood test, so I couldn’t enjoy the burrito right away. But that didn’t bother me, because I hate super hot food, anyway (room temperature food FTW).

Once I got to my desk, I opened that monster and was literally salivating at the thought of my first bite. And then I took it. And I was disappointed.

Damn, this isn’t as good as I remember.

I kept eating it, because duh, but the whole time I just couldn’t help but think that I remembered these burritos to be so much tastier than they are. Then, my coworker walked by and saw me chomping down, and asked what I was eating. In my usual sarcastic and dramatic tone, I explained to her the build-up and let down, and said, “But it’s OK. I can now let go. I got my closure and can move on with an open heart, an open mind and an open stomach.”

She responded, “That’s beautiful. Are you gonna write about this for The Problem With Dating?”

We laughed, because we were both obviously joking. But then mid-laugh, the light bulb went off–I totally should write about this for The Problem With Dating.

And here’s why–I’ve expressed time and time again that we continuously get lessons in our lives. Some are more obvious than others, and in this case, it might be a bit of a stretch, or it might be just right, because let me tell you, apartment hunting isn’t the only non-dating activity that can feel like dating.

In the case of this burrito, it just reaffirms the fact that second chances and closure can be so fulfilling, and I know that seems undeniable and I definitely didn’t need a burrito to illustrate that to me, but it did remind me that it’s a two-way street.

For instance, I built up so many expectations for this damn burrito because of what I remembered, only to find out that it’s actually not as good as I thought.

How many times have we built up an ex or potential significant other in our mind, either from past experiences or from what we create in our thoughts, only to find out that the reality of the situation doesn’t match up?

Now, remember, I’ve also said that closure is a luxury and it is. No matter what you may think (and this is a hard pill to swallow), nobody owes you anything. Whether that be a second chance, a conversation, an apology or an answer to a question you can’t stop asking–it’s never guaranteed. And for that reason, you have to learn how to give yourself some closure, because the person you need it from most may never give it to you.

But if you have the opportunity to get it, take it. And if you have the ability to give it to someone else, do it.

I will hold my Goldstein’s breakfast burrito memories close to my heart. We shared some great times, but now I know, we’ve drifted apart, and there are better burritos out there for me.

That is not to discredit the wonderful qualities that burrito has, and it may be the perfect one for someone else, but now I can say without a shadow of a doubt–it’s just not the one for me.

And that type of certainty, whether it’s about a burrito or a boy, is such a gratifying feeling.